


certitude

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Sex, Blanche uses she/her pronouns but she's a man. Don't question it it's a valid identity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Oral Sex, and negative two courage with sex, lizard man has Two dicks, mute character, this is very much self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 07:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18048620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: "What can I do for you tonight?" he signs and then presses his lips to the back of her knuckles, a soft smile spreading his lips. "You needn't do a thing."She frowns; he lets her hand go almost as if he'd been burned. Had he said something wrong?"I want to please ya tonight," she states, all determination burning in her eyes, "I want ya to finally lemme see ya, lemme touch ya."





	certitude

**Author's Note:**

> heres my lizard idiot and my wifes cat dumbass doing the dirty. finally

There's a glint in Blanche's eye, and Iphi isn't fully sure he knows what she's planning. She has him lain on the bed, so at the very least he knows the direction in which they're going.

But he isn't sure what he should be doing tonight. So he waits, keeping his hands by his sides and eyes trained to her face, awaiting... anything, really.

She looks back at him with an unwavering gaze, as if analyzing his very core, and it takes his all not to squirm from the scrutiny. His fingers twitch, he's this close to asking if something is wrong, but she's faster than him.

"Would't be okay for me t'touch you tonight?" she asks, toying with the string of his shirt, seconds to undoing one of the bows it's held in.

Iphi's head cocks to the side, as it does when he's confused about something. "You can do anything you want," he signs, simply.

Her lips curl up into an uneven grin, fangs protruding from her top lip just the barest amount. She's a sight; Iphi never wants to tear his eyes from her.

Her hand is quick to yank at the string and is pulling it out even quicker. Though the top doesn't cover much as it's little more than summer article to hide from sudden heat rain, he still feels too exposed with it out of the way, pulled over his head. No matter how many times they end up in a situation like this, no matter how many times he counts the number of scars riddling Blanche's porcelain skin (thirty four by last week, and all have been lavished with kisses, if memory serves right), there's still a part of Iphi that's apprehensive about his own.

He's still glad when she doesn't linger, instead starts pulling off his gloves. The chains clink gently as they're tossed to the floor, swiftly followed by his greaves. His pants are the last to go, and the article he holds his breath for yet again.

Her hand trails over the patches of scales curling over the curve of his hip and reaches lower. The fingers that run over the length of his slit are so gentle they almost don't touch the scales at all.

He finds himself grasping for Blanche's hand, holding her smaller wrist in a few fingers and pulling it away.

"What can I do for you tonight?" he signs and then presses his lips to the back of her knuckles, a soft smile spreading his lips. "You needn't do a thing."

She frowns; he lets her hand go almost as if he'd been burned. Had he said something wrong?

"I want to please ya tonight," she states, all determination burning in her eyes, "I want ya to finally lemme see ya, lemme touch ya."

For a moment, Iphi looks to the side, brows knit and dozens emotions playing a theater show on his face. And then he simply sags back against the bed, refusing to meet Blanche's gaze no matter what. In fact, the stack of books off to the side is awfully interesting right about now.

But he doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything when Blanche places her hand over his hip again. The flesh trembles beneath her touch, and that's all the guideline she gets as she reaches for his slit again.

The scales part under her touch, oozing slick. It's easy to see how Iphi could've thought he might fool her with having 'female' organs. She still doesn't understand why; she'd seen auri penises, though she'll be the first one to admit she'd never seen them in a pouch like this.

Her eyes are glued to his face, watching the way he bites at his lip when she pushes at the folds of searing flesh between the scales. A fingertip slips inside and Iphi's whole body seizes up, feet digging into the mattress on either side of her. Blanche watches, enraptured, ignoring her own need gradually more and more uncomfortable pressing against her pants.

The pouch is warm and slick, and the further she presses her finger, the more Iphi arches his back. She doesn't get the finger in all the way, bumps into something along the way, and takes to pulling her finger out.

What follows is Iphi's cock, poking itself out of the slit, flushed and wet, until it drips across his lower stomach and he's squeezing his eyes closed, head turned away as far as the pillow will let him. And then the other one lets itself be known, following its twin until they're both bobbing just the barest amount with each of Iphi's ragged breaths.

Blanche takes a moment to just stare, transfixed by what she'd been forbidden from seeing for so long. The cocks are tapered at the tip, smooth and covered in the viscous slick that keeps dripping from the slit itself.

Her hand curls around the top cock, slender fingers gliding over the wet flesh, and Iphi is caught off guard long enough to buck into the touch once before he stops himself. His eyes fly open and stare at the Mi'qote between his legs with almost a look of shock. He wills his hips back down against the mattress.

But, it seems Blanche didn't like that...? Her brows scrunch together and her hand leaves him; he wants to stab himself for displeasing her.

The speed with which his hands whip up is almost unreal.

"I'm sorry," he signs, and no sooner are his hands in his lap, pushing down against his own cocks in an attempt to force them back into their slit.

Blanche's frown deepens even further and, along with it, does Iphi's heart fall further down his chest, until it feels it will bleed through his stomach. He swallows, fighting with the saliva getting stuck in his throat.

"Stop," Blanche says, and Iphi does. His whole body freezes up, and it's not all that hard for Blanche to coax his hands out of his lap, to stop them from hurting himself by… what, she still doesn't know. "Why d'you go to such lengths to hide yerself? It must be painful to…" She swallows, watching as one cock twitches almost pathetically against the other. "…force them… in..."

Iphi refuses to look anywhere close to his lower half, and instead watches Blanche's braids swaying by her chin. His fingers hesitate once, twice, he starts signing something but just as quick shakes his head and pushes the unfinished words away with one hand. Then his gaze finally falls down and his lips twitch up into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes by the long shot, doesn't even reach his lips fully, actually.

"Aren't you going to say how hideous they are? Didn't you like them more as just a slit, too?"

Blanche isn't sure what she'd expected, but it wasn't this, and she definitely didn't expect it to feel like she'd just been socked in the jaw.

She's grasping Iphi's hands before he can utter a single further word and she's gripping them so hard hers are shaking.

"No!" she cries, "Gods, no, no, no…"

She shakes with something, anger thinly veiled beneath whatever it is she's feeling. Nausea and bile swirl in her stomach. Iphi's thumb is rubbing her cheek and he's looking at her with eyes swimming in concern.

She takes to gripping his shoulders; they're the closest convenient thing now that he's half sitting up. "I'm gonna need names, Iphi. The bastards who've said that shite."

Even hard between them and - finally - free of restrictions, he's focusing on other things, silently asking her if she's okay with nothing but his shining eyes. Wait a moment.

"Wait-- does that... Does that mean all the times we've slept together, ya've never came, not even once?"

The realization feels like a bucket of winter-frozen water being dumped on her. Her ears fold back as she remembers all the times Iphi had taken residence on his knees on the floor, filled his mouth with her length and forced his own hardness to stay in his pouch with a hand in his lap.

He's just cocking his head again, Gods bless and curse him both, and brushing her hair out of her face.

"Your pleasure is more important to me," he signs even with one hand. "It feels good to make you feel good." There's no hesitation this time, only raw truth that Blanche isn't sure she's ready to face.

She shakes her head, as if not believing a single word Iphi motions. She rests her forehead against his shoulder momentarily, recollecting herself. "Please, let me make you feel good too," she finally forces out, voice raw and harsh.

Iphi's brows scrunch up and his hand moves to pet through Blanche's hair, trailing over her folded ear before joining its twin to make more words.

"It's okay, love. I don't need your pity." Here he falters for a bit, hands hovering in midair with no clear movement, just fingers curling and uncurling sporadically. "You truly needn't do a thing, especially something you might find unsavory."

She bristles, back straightening up so much she looms over Iphi's hunched form for once. "Unsavory?" she repeats, emphasis put on one too many syllables. She's glaring at Iphi, makes him want to shrink away with just a look. "Pity?! You dumb idiot! Does it look like I'm pityin' you!"

Iphi finds himself with a lapful of white cat, Blanche's arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as far as they'll go. She's squeezing him as close as their bodies will allow, chest to chest.

"I love you," she said, resting her head against the side of his horn, chin digging into his shoulder. "I wanna… I wanna make you feel good too. I don't care if you have don't have a cock or have two or five of them or whatever, I don't care-- I don't care, y'hear! There ain't one thing you could do to make me think yer unsavory. Nothin' you've ever done to me ain't somethin' I wouldn't be willin' to return tenfold. So, please, let me."

There's silence then; Iphi's hands hang onto her coat, bunching the fabric in his fists and he shakes, shoulders trembling. If Blanche didn't know better, she'd say he's...

Crying.

It's her turn to wipe at his cheek, smear the tear tracks away from his freckled skin. He pulls away, or tries to, at any rate, but she holds him still with much less strength than she'd need to still someone of his stature. But he stays, lets her pull him forward even, so that she might press her lips to his forehead, over the raised patches of keratin framing his cheeks. She finally slots right between his horns, as if made to not get impaled on the covered tips, and kisses him properly.

Iphi all but melts into it, closing his eyes and letting her set the pace. She does the very same and they end up doing nothing but pecking each other for long minutes, until she pulls away with a huffed laugh.

Iphi's eyes open slowly, colored like liquid gold with the mixture of wetness and haziness. Blanche thinks she'd never seen prettier eyes than his, yet again.

"It'd be too much t'ask ya t'tell me what you'd like, aye?" she asks, knowing the answer already as she cradles his face with an almost reverent touch.

He looks away, down to where her knee dips the mattress with her weight. "Anything you want is fine with me," he signs, and he also knows it's not what she'd wanted to see, but that doesn't stop his hands.

Blanche sighs and readjusts herself on her knees.

"Okay, how's about this? You tell me if I do anythin' y'don't like," is her proposal, "and I stop."

Iphi nods, half wary because she has that determined look in her eyes that she gets when they go into a fight; and Iphi doesn't know what to think of it.

"I mean it." She squeezes his hand, laces their fingers together like not even Halone herself could undo them. "This's supposed t'feel good fer you too, y'know? If y'don't tell me, I'll..."

She trails off, her words hanging unspoken between them like molasses. Iphi cradles her hand with both of his, their fingers still entwined, close to his chest. He's sure Blanche can feel the way his heart is trying to beat itself out of his ribcage.

"You don't have to do anything, it's okay," he tells her, pulling away, or at least tries to, but he's held still.

"S'not that, I j'st don't know what ye like. Or, y'know, what t'do at all." She's laughing, trailing her free hand down over his stomach to his slit. She's not surprised to see it has closed itself during this whole thing, but now she knows she just has to tease it a little and her prize - prizes - will get coaxed out again. "I've an idea, though."

So she does just that, claws overly careful as she rubs between the scales, warm flesh parting with a rush of slick that covers Iphi's thighs and the bed covers.

Iphi's eyes are trained on her as she does so, teeth bitten down on his lip and fingers clutched in the blanket off to the side. She coaxes the penises out, curling a hand around each and raising her gaze up to his face.

"S'this okay?"

He used to ask that same question every single time he'd done anything to her, Gods bless him. It's only appropriate she gives him the same courtesy, right? It's much quicker than him pulling off his hands every time, though.

Iphi nods, nostrils flaring with his uneven breathing; he's still biting his lip.

A smile spreads on Blanche's face, her eyes softening. "I'm gonna lick 'em, okay? Well, jus' one, but y'know."

He nods again, but by then she has made herself comfortable between his legs, knees digging into the mattress. She nuzzles against one of his thighs, ear flicking momentarily, and then she descends down, licking up a stripe from the bottom of his lower cock to the tip. She would try sucking on it, but the danger of accidentally nipping him with a tooth when he's finally allowing her to reciprocate in some way just twists her stomach into knots, so she doesn't even try. Maybe some other time, if she's careful.

Instead, she takes to licking along the tip, distantly marveling at how much softer his cocks are compared to her own. Probably because they get protected by their little pouch and aren't out most of the time. Pity, that, really.

Iphi shakes beneath her, a small groan choking out of his throat and Blanche preens with pride, redoubling her efforts just so she could be graced with more of them.

One of his hands finds itself on her head, fingers splayed around her ear, but not doing anything other than sitting there. She looks up, pausing in her ministrations.

"Want me t'stop?" she asks, leaning her head upwards into the touch.

Iphi's face is dusted with red that makes his freckles almost glow and he doesn't say anything for the longest time, then he slowly, oh-so-slowly shakes his head.

She beams at him.

"Good! I mean… was a lil worried, when y'didn't… I mean, feel free t'pull my hair or, something."

And just like that, Iphi pulls his hand away from her head and she has to really fight herself not to whine.

“Well, maybe one day,” she mutters, more to herself than anything else. She’d be lying if she even pretended the thought of getting her mouth on the glob of precum currently beading on the tip of a cock instead of more talking wasn’t much, much more alluring.

Hells, maybe one day Iphi will feel comfortable enough to do that, and so much more. After all, he’d let her do this (maybe with some pushing, but he did, nonetheless).

Blanche kisses the crown on the closest cock, fingers curling around the other and laps the fluid up. Each time she drags her tongue up or down, Iphi’s whole body shivers — he arches his back once or twice, too — and distantly, she thinks it must be because of her rough tongue. That only spurs her further on, and she licks — heh — kittenishly at the slit of it. It leaks profusely; not the best of tastes, but just the knowledge that it’s Iphi’s is making it so much better on her taste buds.

She gets lost in her task, and maybe a bit too much, because the next thing she’s actually aware of is Iphi’s hand returning to the top of her head. She wonders whether he took her words to heart, but instead of pulling or tugging at all, he’s pushing her away.

She opens her eyes, and when did she even close them? and pulls away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She takes a moment to just look at him, sprawled there with a heaving chest, breathing uneven. He has a hand up by his mouth, teeth biting down at it — wait — he’s looking down at her with hooded, blown-out eyes, tears streaming — wait wait wait wait wait—!

It feels like a chasm has opened within her chest; she chokes on nothing and scrambles up the bed.

“Iphi, baby, darlin’, what’s wrong? Did I hurt ya, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry darlin’, please talk to me,” she bumbles with her words, unsure what to do with her hands. She ends up leaning over him, hand braced on the side of his shoulder.

He shakes his head and the hand that he’d been cramming into his mouth moves to reply. Blanche’s eyes are glued to his fingers — they shake with each sign.

“I couldn’t hold on much longer,” is what he says, and the emptiness in Blanche’s chest seems to fill up again and she bursts out laughing.

“Ohh, darlin’, c’mon,” she almost coos at him, framing his cheek with a hand. Her ears twitch as she smiles, rubbing at his scales. “That’s why I was doin’ that, I want ya to finish, y’know?”

Iphi’s cheeks heat up beneath Blanche’s touch, his head turning to the side to hide. She leans forward, slots herself right between his horns to stop him and kisses him. His taste still lingers on her tongue and he can no doubt taste it, but that doesn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around her, losing himself in the kisses all too obviously.

Neither of them wants to separate, so when they have to, they’re both out of breath and rightly dazed.

Blanche’s previously ignored heat has been making itself known and Iphi’s must be too, if she were to warrant a guess. Especially when she had unwittingly left him on the edge.

She cradles his face, a motion like second nature to them, marvels at how small her hand looks compared to his… everything, really. “I wanna fuck ya,” she says with no shred of shame to the words. “C’n I?”

It had always been hard for Iphi to say no to Blanche, even more so when she’s looking like that, not even Hydaelyn herself could make him deny her whatever she wants at that point. He kisses her once more just for good measure before he signs.

“Just don’t use my pouch, okay? It’s too small. Hurts.”

Blanche chuckles, stowing away the knowledge he’d just bestowed to her to get angry over later, and leans her weight back. Her tail swishes to and fro as she licks her lips. “Ya misunderstand, dear.”

Iphi has no idea where she had pulled a vial of oil from, but it’s in her hands and then all over her hands. And then it’s behind her and her ears fold.

“I can do it!” Iphi says, one hand already outstretched as if he were about to do as he said so, but holding back. He’s looking up at her unsurely. She wants to kiss his worries away.

Blanche wonders if this is the first time he’s had proper sex. Not that she’s exactly the best for teaching him the etiquette around the whole thing.

She flashes her fangs. “Tonight, I’m doin’ the hard work, got it? Enjoy the show, darlin’.”

She rocks backwards, against Iphi’s cocks, and pushes another finger into herself. Begrudgingly, but really interested anyway, Iphi lays there, hands just above where Blanche’s fur ends on her thighs, rubbing soft circles on the milky skin. Blanche’s pushing back against him as she prepares herself, though it’s much more rushed than any of the times Iphi has fucked her with his fingers.

This time, though, he gets to see every single little change to Blanche’s expressions, any little brow crease, lip bite, all the times she closes her eyes and sighs gently instead of moaning.

He doesn't know how long she's at it; could be a few minutes, could be an entire hour from the way he gets lost in kissing her, swallowing down her noises like the richest of wines. His hands find their way to her hips, thumbs rubbing soft, soft circles on the softer skin.

"Aight, big boy," she sighs. Though pulling away from the kiss, they're still close enough to feel each other's breaths on their lips. "I made ya wait long enough."

Iphi knows exactly what she's going to do right then, knows it rationally, but the simple thought and the actual feeling of her grabbing his lower cock and sinking onto it in one fell swoop is vastly different. So much so that he arches upwards sharply, back coming off the covers. He's just glad he'd decided to move his hands away from, well, anywhere on Blanche's body, because the strength with which he grips the bed sheets would probably have left nasty bruises on such bright skin.

"Y'okay, Iphi?" Blanche asks him, running a hand down his cheek. She swims before him for a second until he blinks his vision back to normal and nods, choking on each breath that fights to get to his lungs.

She's so warm around him; he can feel every single one of her twitches, the velvety walls rubbing against him in the best of ways.

He's never known sex could feel this good.

"'mgonna move," Blanche says. When did she get so close to his ear? Oh, she's kissing him.

Wait, what did she say? She _wasn't_ moving yet?

It feels like all the breath that had finally managed to make its way into his lungs has been punched out as soon as Blanche raises herself on shaky legs, dragging all that wonderful friction upwards. And she falls back, nails digging into the muscles on Iphi's stomach, taut as a bow.

Some sort of a noise tears itself out of his throat, something he'd never known he's even capable of; still isn't, really. This all doesn't feel real.

"Look't me," Blanche says, moving one of her hands from his chest (which is now bleeding. and it has to be real of he can feel the faint sting, right? it all melts into the pleasure, though) to his thigh, body leaning backwards. He fights with the command - it's not a command, not with the way she said it. not with her saying it - and his eyes row over her body, on full display and somehow even more open and exposed than when she had been preparing herself for him, putting on a show.

But he lands on her face, lips curling upwards and eyes crinkled like she had just gotten permission to prank someone in the house. Her ears are folded down, twitching minutely and by all the gods he believes in and doesn't believe in, that's the cutest sight he'd ever seen.

When she's certain he's looking, not just staring ahead, she smiles properly, pale cheeks splashed with such a vibrant shade of red that all the makeup vendors would be put out of business immediately, and brings her other hand up to her face.

_I love you._

It's different seeing the sign and doing it, but Iphi thinks that's the one sign he could recognize even if it were butchered to high hells. _I love you, I love you, I love you._ With each loop, the movements get a bit more slurred, jerky, until Blanche is just waving her hand around more than anything.

He captures it with one of his, entwining their fingers together, holding her as tight as he can.

_I love you_ , he mouths, and the sight of Blanche beaming at him is perhaps even more pleasurable than her heat squeezing around him.

He can't bear to let go of her right then, so he holds her hand, brings it close to pepper kisses over its back, and uses the other to wrap around her cock. It jumps in his fingers as soon as he wraps them around her girth, and he doesn't tease, not now. All the precum she'd leaked - is still leaking - makes his movements smooth as can be. He revels in the high keen he manages to pull out of her.

Blanche's thrusts speed up, her knees bouncing her up and down as if her life depended on it, and Iphi is hit by it all. She likes this; he's bringing her pleasure, even like this.

The heat twists in his gut. He's not sure if it's from that revelation, or because Blanche squeezes around him on one particular thrust, but it doesn't make a difference either way. It's probably because he hadn't felt anything like this… ever.

"Oh," Blanche moans, breath catching with sharp inhales, "Oh, Iphi…"

His hand releases Blanche's heat in favor of smushing his own free one against it, grip barely encircling then both. She cries out, stuck between pushing into the doubled heat and impaling herself at that nice angle she had just found. Sweat mats her hair to her forehead, braid slowly but surely coming undone with all the incessant bouncing.

"Kiss me," she demands, gripping Iphi's hand so tight it almost hurts. Almost.

Iphi doesn't even think before he's doing as asked, pushing himself up and pushing his lover to his chest with one cleverly curled leg. Their lips crash together, a mesh of teeth and tongue more than anything, but it's exactly what they both want.

"Mark me," she breathes, so close all Iphi can see are her eyes, pupils dilated so wide he almost can't even make out the colors around them. "Make me yours, m'rose."

Maybe he complies only because she looks like she'd die without it, or maybe because he can see she really, truly wants it, but he does nonetheless. His lips trail down her chin and across the pale expanse of her throat. When her breath hitches, he stops, sucking at that exact spot until red blossom under his lips and tongue.

And then he bites down at the mark, teasing the sensitive skin, and Blanche arches away from him with a loud moan.

"Oh fuck!" she cries, tensing up all over. Iphi still has a hand over them both, can feel how she jumps in it before painting both their stomachs with a spray of her cum.

He watches, transfixed, as she bites her lip, bucking up into the touch until she's too tired to do so anymore, or maybe until it becomes too much.

Iphi's own climax creeps up on him almost out of nowhere. It feels like Blanche had strung him along the whole time, and with ease he shouldn't be capable of, he lifts her off of himself and holds her close to himself as he cums, shaking all over and making an even bigger mess of the covers.

He'd shut his eyes, and for a blissful moment there's just him and her, out of breath and calming down, basking in the afterglow.

And then he opens them again and is greeted with her sleepy grin, eyes hazy and so, so vulnerable, so full of love and affection, that he thinks he's dreaming again.

It takes a few tries, his brain and body not cooperating yet, but eventually he wills himself to lean forward, captures her lips in a kiss so unlike the previous ones. And still it manages to be as heated as ever.

"Are y'okay, Iph?"

It takes a moment to register the question, and even longer to really register it.

He cocks his head to the side, looks at Blanche in confusion. He's not the one who just got fucked. Why is she asking him if he's okay?

"Did y'like it, I mean," she corrects herself, chuckling silently at him and brushing her fingers through his hair, pushing some stray strands from his face.

He loathes to let her go, but he does, for a moment at least. "I like everything with you," he tells her. His heart had still not calmed down, and his mind feels a bit too calm in comparison.

Maybe it'll hit him later.

Blanche just smiles more at him. "That's good. I meant it, y'know."

Iphi makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat. He tries getting up to clean them up, but Blanche tangles her legs with his, wraps her tail around his hip and keeps him on the bed with a whine.

"What I said. Love ya. Nothin' changes that," she says. Her voice is slurred with drowsiness; he wonders how much she's even aware of saying right now. "M'glad I could make ya feel good, finally. Lemme do it more, rose."

Her ear is tickling his neck, and she's almost purring when he pets her sweaty hair. She will pass out any moment now.

It's not like he could even answer her in this state, she wouldn't see it anyway. And, true to his guess, the next minute she's sleeping soundly.

He detangles himself as gently as he can so he can grab the cleaning rag and make sure she wouldn't wake up sticky and gross. He can't force himself to leave the room, though, and ends up sitting by her side for a few bells, eventually ending back in the tangled laying position he'd started in.

He has a lot of time to mull over everything that has just happened. And, especially, what to do with it now.


End file.
